My most vivid memory of my grandparents' farm is the sloping crabapple tree that graced their back yard. There was nothing particularly special about the tree to anybody who passed by it, but to me it was a fortress. The petite, green crabapples that cluttered the tree weighed down the arching branches, producing a fountain of vibrant leaves that spilled to the ground. Pushing aside the flowing tentacles of the tree revealed a secret cove of uncut grass and brightly-colored wildflowers. It was in that cove that I would sit for hours, reading, napping and feasting on the never-en
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Approximate Word count = 395
Approximate Pages = 2 (250 words per page double spaced)
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